Indomie Girls

I started ‘keeping’ Umar on the 22nd of November, 2008. To be honest, when I first met him I just wanted to love him but since we decided to get married, I started receiving advice on how to ‘keep’ him because apparently loving someone isn’t enough to make them stay. I had to keep his eyes from wandering around and focus it only on me.
I cooked and cleaned all day long, I joined a million whatsapp groups for married women where they send recipes and tips on how to satisfy your husband sexually and make him love you forever. I laughed and smiled at all his relatives even the ones I despised and took the trash they handed to me gracefully.

Four months after we got married, I decided to quit my job even against protestations from Umar because I had come to learn that I couldn’t really juggle ‘keeping’ him and working even though it had always been my childhood dream to become a nurse; I didn’t want to end up like all those career women, married to their work till their husbands get tired and leave them.

To be the centre of my husband’s world, I had to wake up way before morning prayers and prepare breakfast because I have learnt that Umar loves to have a variety of dishes for breakfast. My house was always spotless clean even when I was sick or mentally and emotionally exhausted. I never let Umar eat another woman’s cooking , even if his sisters come visiting , I make sure that I handle the cooking, as mine should be the only food he taste.

When he comes back from work, I massage his feet even when my own shoulders were begging for one. I never complained, even when I was angry or irritated I never let him know so as not to upset him and make him tired of me. I never became one of those nagging women who complained to their husbands all the time, in fact, I don’t complain about anything at all. I don’t complain when he drops his dirty towel on the bed I already made or refuses to eat something I spent hours preparing.

Keeping Umar was affecting more than my physical health, but I couldn’t give up. I wanted to be the only woman he will ever love. I hated wearing makeup but I wore it every day because that’s what’s trending and I don’t want him staring at other women. I slowly learned to contour and draw eyebrows like the Nike trademark. My life became a routine, a boring one but at least I had him by my side.

Some days I am not even sure if I loved him anymore but I knew I had to keep him no matter what because what kind of wife will I be if I don’t? Umar is a good husband and a very good father to our two kids. That explains my shock when I heard from my cousin that she saw Umar on her friend’s phone and she claimed he is one of her clients. My cousin’s friend Mairo is known all over town, Mairo is a pretty girl and one of those women my friends and I mockingly called “indomie girls” due to their zero cooking skills.

Many women complained about Mairo but I never saw her as a threat, My Umar will never do that to me, I do everything for him, he doesn’t need her. I am the perfect wife.
But even the night I confirmed he was seeing her, I cooked for Umar as usual and I welcomed him while hiding my pain. I didn’t even complain. I had to keep him even if it kills me.

But sometimes, I wonder what my life will be like if instead of keeping him; my mother and aunties had taught me how to love without hiding parts of myself. I wish Umar sees me at my worst and still calls me beautiful. I wish I didn’t have to cake my face with so much make up. I wish I didn’t have to stand all day and cook so much. Perhaps, I will never know what that feels like, but tomorrow, I will meet with my friends and we will brag about our perfect marriages and make fun of the indomie girls- the ones with zero cooking skills who have still somehow managed to ensnare our husbands.